


Below the Waist

by elfiepike



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-18
Updated: 2007-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike





	Below the Waist

"I thought," Brendon said, breathing in and out through his mouth, his eyelids fluttering, cheeks flushed (which might be the beer--Brendon doesn't drink often but he is the kind of person where if you put something in front of him he'll down it without thought for the consequences), "that you were only gay _above the waist_ , ahahah, oh--oh--"

Pete grinned into Brendon's neck and palmed Brendon's dick, still inside his pants. "Shut up, dude, you're ruining my concentration."

Brendon's hands fluttered around Pete's shoulders, unsteady, finally settling with one hand on Pete's neck, the other petting restlessly at his back. "Pete, uh, I'm a little--"

Pete pulled back, just a few inches, keeping Brendon pressed against the wall with his legs, hips. "Seriously, Brendon, do you want me to do this or what?" Pete grinned, all-teeth, though, and leaned back to kiss Brendon, open-mouthed and dirty. He used the distraction to get Brendon's pants open properly; he had to tell Brendon (mumbling into his mouth, really), "Suck your stomach in, don't wear pants this tight, c'mon."

They could feel the bass beat through the floor; there was a crashing sound from outside, and people shouting and laughing.

Pete stopped kissing Brendon and made Brendon spit into his hand--seriously, Brendon had a mouth to die for; seeing him purse his lips and lean over Pete's hand was doing some really amazing things for Pete. "Yeah, just a little more," Pete said.

Brendon obliged, blinking, god, his _mouth_.

Pete put his hand back around Brendon's dick and started tugging, pulling. Brendon made a face like he was seeing God. "Pete, Pete," he said, and then moaned, loud, both of his hands pressed flat against the wall behind him.

Pete closed his eyes for a second, keeping his rhythm up. He started grinding against Brendon's hip, sporadic, and opened his eyes again. "How'm I doing, hunh, Brendon?" He asked, turned on, confident.

Brendon moaned, maybe Pete's name. "You're, you're, Pete, I'm--" His head fell back against the wall. "I'm too drunk to talk, Pete, I'm--"

"That's cool, dude," Pete said, his voice deeper than usual, expression more predatory than he maybe realized. "I'm good at this, but you'll have to return the favor, yeah? Maybe, maybe you could suck me off, because just thinking about your mouth right now, the way you look, the way you were licking at your drinks earlier was giving me ideas, you know." His hand didn't stop moving on Brendon's dick; he looked down to watch it for a second. "I'm totally just jerking you off the way I jerk off myself. You saw the pictures, right, so I think you probably had an idea of what to expect."

"Pete," Brendon said, "Pete, I'm gonna--ah, ah--" His eyes clenched shut and he came in Pete's hand.

Pete grinned, and lifted his hand. "Dude," he said.

Brendon looked at him, glazed, and then laughed, just a little. "Dude," he said, but still licked Pete's hand clean.

"Now," Pete said when his hand was decently clean, "about the return favor?"

Brendon nodded. "Just, not against the wall, I feel all--"

"Yeah, yeah, pussy," Pete said.


End file.
